


Kneeling

by nbspandam



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cock Worship, M/M, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sexual Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:35:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24036745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nbspandam/pseuds/nbspandam
Summary: “I… Have not the courage to put this into words,” he sighs, marveling at the softness of his hair against his fingertips.“Will you show me?” Seteth asks, ever patient as he tips his head into the palm of his hand.-Aelfric is hounded by a particular fantasy, and it is through Seteth's encouragement he finally acts on it.
Relationships: Alphard | Aelfric Dahlman/Seteth
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	Kneeling

**Author's Note:**

> Hey hey hey, it's me again!! Filling up this pairing tag with my bullshit!!!! Enjoy this piece, I didn't think I'd actually get this far after letting it sit since April.

It’s not unusual that Aelfric is on his knees from time to time, for prayer or reverence. It isn’t something that lasts, ending when the last word slips past his lips or the lips of another engaging in the same thing. The moment is gone, and he rises. The gentle blooming ache that comes doesn’t stay for long, either. Within minutes, it has faded to nothing. 

He has an appointment with Seteth today. A spot of tea in the afternoon, nothing more. But he wants more, he knows that. Aelfric has only begun to understand the depths of it, and why the thought of staying on his knees makes his heart pound with excitement. 

Another kind of worship, where he offers his body to revere the man whose affections somehow came to include him. To be used willingly by him, kept aching in both his jaw and loins, is a fantasy he wishes he could be brave enough to speak of. It would be easy. 

But he doesn’t say it. He makes no mention of what slips through his mind during the times he’s spent praying on his knees, instead occupying himself with the aroma of mint tea, sweetened only with a little bit of honey. 

“You look troubled, Aelfric.”

He pauses, cup halfway to his mouth.

“Oh… I apologize, I did not mean to seem so glum,” he says, setting it back down onto the saucer. He prays that he hasn’t been seen through completely. 

“You do not have to apologize for that, it is alright. I only would like to know what you have on your mind,” Seteth replies, reaching to hold onto one of his hands. 

It’s warm and calloused, yet he can only see it as perfect. Without flaw or blemish, skin toughened up by countless labors, he wonders what it would feel like with those fingers tangled in his hair. To feel them pull, insistently, to keep him right where he’s supposed to be.

Heat crawls up his neck, his cheeks, all the way to his ears. If Seteth had been unaware of where Aelfric’s mind had taken him before, then he’s surely aware of it now. Like this, he’s far too obvious. Far too apparent with what lingers in his thoughts, never content to fade into the recesses of it. 

Time seems to slow as Seteth keeps his gaze on him, hardly even blinking. It’s as if he can see right through him, peeling back every flimsy layer of propriety, temperance and abstinence that’s keeping him from even whispering it to the wild flowers that grow in between the stones in a cobbled path. He knows. Surely he knows. 

“... It is its own kind of wonder that you look at me with such a heated gaze, my treasure,” he murmurs, bringing Aelfric’s hand up to his face. He cradles it against the side of it, thumb softly pressed against his cheek while some of his fingers pass through teal green hair. 

Aelfric swallows, audibly so while he keeps his hand where it’s been placed of his own accord, wondering how clammy it must feel against that warm skin. Or perhaps he’s reaching an equilibrium, the longer this blush stays. His heart drums away in his chest.

“I… Have not the courage to put this into words,” he sighs, marveling at the softness of his hair against his fingertips.

“Will you show me?” Seteth asks, ever patient as he tips his head into the palm of his hand.

He nods. It’s all he can bring himself to do, words lost to him now. Still, if he is to show him what exactly it is that he yearns for, he will have to move. He will have to pull away.

With green eyes watching his every move, he does indeed draw back, finding that he hasn’t left a trail of perspiration behind after all. A small mercy, he supposes, in the face of what he’s going to do next.

Rising from his seat, Aelfric moves around the writing desk they had cleared of documents and quills, replacing them with a pot and a pair of cups to match. He takes hold of the back of Seteth’s chair, dragging it back as far as he thinks it needs to go once the weight of his dearest is lifted. He’s grateful that he’s willing to play along with this, regardless of the silence ruling over the room.

There is enough space for him to kneel, now. Aelfric’s heart starts to race again, a faint breath leaving his lips. He swallows, and takes the few steps needed to stand face to face with Seteth.

He lowers his head just as he lowers his body, the motion so familiar that it takes him a moment to realize when his knees have met the floor. He looks up, then, locking eyes not with the portrait of a Goddess depicted in murals and stone, but with a man made of flesh and blood. This is it. This is what he’d wanted, so very dearly.

Slowly, he reaches up to place his hands on Seteth’s knees, pushing his legs apart with hardly any force to it at all. They just part before him, and he watches as the thin belt keeping that coat in place is removed alongside the decorative tassel band. 

To think that he would be trusted like this, allowed the privilege of this kind of reverence. 

For the sake of comfort, the coat and the cape are dealt with, leaving Seteth free of the sweeping fabrics meant to frame him the way gold frames the jewels of a crown. 

His trousers are easier to pull open at the front, and soon enough, Aelfric is level with the very thing he’s wanted to get his mouth on since the very beginning. Bolstered by nothing more than desire, he pulls one of Seteth’s hands to rest in his hair, glancing up one final time.

Though Seteth has a faint blush to his cheeks, his gaze is as steady as ever. A comfort, even now.

It doesn’t matter that his cock has hardly stiffened at all. Absurdly, it only adds fuel to the fire consuming Aelfric from the inside as he wraps one hand around it, leaning in to close his lips around the head in a parody of a kiss. He trails down the side of the shaft with his mouth, zeroed in on every twitch and shudder it elicits. 

The hand in his hair is grounding, even as it does little aside from stroking his hair. That’s more than enough, all things considered. Seteth has already done so much, by letting him have this without question.

Sealing his lips around the head of his now stiffened cock earns him more than a twitch this time; there’s a grip in his hair now, a breathless little sigh leaving Seteth as he leans into it. Oh, how Aelfric wishes to hear more of that.

He strokes what he can’t yet fit into his mouth, tongue dragging along the soft barbs and the vein beneath on the underside. He’s getting lost in the feeling of it, the weight in his mouth, the faint tug on his hair. His head is void of all else, inhibitions lost to the thrall of this worship.

A moan gets dragged out of Seteth when Aelfric takes all of him into his mouth, one hand braced against his thigh to keep steady. A swallow is enough to have him shift his hips, still so concerned not to overdo it. Even so, Aelfric keeps pushing.

He starts sucking in earnest, lips acting as a seal keeping his tongue against Seteth’s cock for as long as he can manage. With every push and pull, that grip in his hair grows tighter, the breathing above growing more ragged and tense just as the muscle beneath his hands.

Then, a second hand joins the first and he chokes just a bit as Seteth bucks into his mouth, another moan cutting through the haze in Aelfric’s head. He buries his nose in the coarse trail of hair leading to the prized thing he’s still sucking on, a muffled moan of his own only making it worse.

The care Seteth takes in fucking his mouth could be enough to make him weep, but he’s so far gone that it only registers as warmth seeping into him, pleasure singing in his veins and sinking into his very soul. There’s drool dribbling down his chin, but it doesn’t matter. He’s never been so enthralled.

The figure Seteth cuts when he comes like this is one Aelfric will remember every time he goes on his knees, lips parted and eyes closed as he shallowly thrusts into his mouth just a few more times before he stops, fingers tangling further in his hair while he shudders.

Swallowing is the last thing on Aelfric’s mind when he pulls out, but he does it by reflex even as some still spills out. He rests his head against the side of Seteth’s thigh, shuddering himself even though he hadn’t been touched at all. 

“I… Had no idea about the depths of your passion, Aelfric,” Seteth murmurs, gingerly pulling him up to let him sit on his lap. “You certainly surprised me, and I am grateful.” 

“I am just… Glad that you let me do this,” he replies in turn, pausing when he’s kissed on the lips so softly that tears threaten to fall. “Grateful, even… I hope you enjoyed it.” 

“There is not a chance that I would have done anything else. I have never felt more spoiled.” he says, wiping at his damp cheeks with gentle hands. 

Aelfric smiles a little at that, some semblance of pride blooming in his chest. 

"Will you let me do this again sometime?"

"Of course. Whenever you want."


End file.
